


Trick or Treat

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Costumes, Halloween, Humor, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-29
Updated: 2011-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A OneWhoSitsWithTurtles Halloween Special.</p><p>The team is invited to Saito’s Halloween party. Arthur is unimpressed by Eames’s choice in costume, and decides it is his personal duty to remove the man’s offensive clothing.</p><p>Arthur/Eames, Dom/Saito (if you want to see it), Ariadne/Yusuf (if you want to see it)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trick or Treat

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**
> 
> Normally I try to write everything based on realistic logic (at least as much as possible). Please don’t hold me to that regard this time. I just wanted to write something sweet and fun and smutty for the holiday, and for Bethany who sent me a story request :)

“What in god’s name are you wearing?” Arthur hissed, gripping Eames’s arm with enough force to make the Forger wince and follow behind the Point Man as he led them away from the growing crowd of party guests.

 

“It’s a pleasure to see you too, darling,” Eames smirked in amusement, clearly keen on taunting Arthur and seeing how riled up Arthur could get before snapping in front of the guests. “You look stunning, as always.”

 

Arthur huffed in annoyance and didn’t spare a glance back over his shoulder at Eames. Instead he focused on dragging the other man to the corner of the main hall where there were tables of fruit, punch, cakes and candy set up. There were still guests milling around, chatting pleasantly and sampling the food politely, but at least they weren’t in the middle of the dance floor here. Arthur finally dropped Eames’s arm as though burned and crossed his arms. “I dressed appropriately, at least.”

 

Eames scoffed and held a hand over his heart as though wounded, crinkling the cardboard sewn onto the sweater. “I dressed appropriately,” Eames argued. “This is a costume party and I am in costume.”

 

“This is a _formal_ costume party held by Saito for all his business associates,” Arthur corrected. When Eames feigned ignorance, raising a taunting eyebrow, Arthur continued, “That means you dress up in a suit and put a plain mask on, like everyone else. You don’t show up looking like...” Arthur trailed off as his eyes slid over his teammate’s form. “What _are_ you supposed to be, anyway?”

 

“Isn’t it obvious, pet?” Eames chuckled, clearly pleased that he had managed to stump the clever Point Man. Eames took a step backwards, effectively pinning him own back against the wall, and motioned his hands over his own form as though making an offer.

 

Hating to be out of the loop, Arthur stood for a moment and looked the other dream worker over. Eames had an ugly, light woollen sweater on that was a horrible blend of black and faded orange. The sleeves were a little too long, covering Eames’s fingers except when the Forger occasionally fidgeted the sleeves back up around his wrists. It looked like something Eames might have spotted in a dumpster on his way over, and Arthur was even more sure of this assessment when he considered the torn up, tiny cardboard cereal boxes hanging off the sweater’s material.

 

Eames also had on a pair of dark jeans that were ruined by rather suspicious stains, which looked a little too short and allowed Arthur a painful glimpse of Eames’s cotton socks with poorly stitched pumpkins on them between the cuffs of his pants and his scruffy loafers. Arthur’s gaze trailed back up to the stains on Eames’s thigh and grimaced. “Tell me that’s not semen.”

 

Eames glanced down at himself and burst out laughing, drawing the attention of a few curious onlookers further along the table. “It’s milk, Arthur. Get your mind out of the gutter unless you’re going to invite me to join,” Eames sent him a scandalous wink.

 

Arthur sighed in aggravation. “Please tell me you didn’t steal your _costume_ from a homeless person on your way over from the hotel.”

 

“Of course not; I made this costume!” Eames exclaimed with far too much pride. “I’m a serial killer!” Eames finally added when Arthur made it clear he was finished with the conversation and strongly considering leaving.

 

“You’re a what?” Arthur felt his eyebrows rise in confusion. “How does that make any sense?”

 

“No, no, darling,” Eames was smirking again, pointing at the little boxes on his sweater. “C-e-r-e-a-l. A cereal killer.” There was a long moment of silence. “Get it?”

 

Arthur blinked and continued to stare at Eames for another long minute, mindless to the party going on around them. “Sometimes I truly despise knowing you, Mr. Eames,” Arthur confessed before turning to rejoin the rest of the party guests.

 

“Well I certainly don’t regret knowing you, Arthur dear,” Eames took a few quick steps to catch up to Arthur and match his pace as they waded through the throng of guests sipping bubbly drinks or dancing to the music of the band and female singer up on the stage on one side of the room. “Especially with how you look tonight.”

 

“I just dressed for the occasion,” Arthur shrugged the compliment off lightly, not slowing his pace until he spotted his familiar team and drew along beside them.

 

“Well the 1920s gangster look really suits you,” Eames whispered into Arthur’s ear, causing him to shiver slightly before adjusting his black fedora, feeling a little out of sorts. Arthur had slipped on a polished black pair of shoes to match his pressed black suit, his jacket open to show off a crisp white shirt and a burgundy pinstriped waistcoat.

 

“He’s right, you know,” Ariadne chimed in with a wink of her own, watching as Arthur shouldered Eames a few inches away from him.

 

“Don’t encourage him,” Arthur chided in a way to make it sound as though he was referring to a misbehaving puppy.

 

Ariadne rolled her eyes, and Yusuf, standing close beside the Architect, chuckled lightly. “Our support, or lack thereof, will have no influence over Eames. You should know that by now.”

 

“I can always hope,” Arthur shot Eames a look before taking a moment to study the rest of his teammates. Ariadne was dressed up in a beautiful green gown with a white ribbon tied around her waist and a mask Arthur knew to be from Venice placed carefully over her face. The mask itself was a dusty silver with tiny black studs bordering the rim, and the feathers fanning out from the sides were green, black and white.

 

Yusuf was dressed in something Arthur thought might have been stolen from a butler, although it was clearly tailored to fit the Chemist’s form perfectly. He also had his hair slicked back and a gold-framed monocle perched against one eye. Arthur wasn’t sure if he was going for a billionaire or evil genius look, but he could only wonder why Yusuf hadn’t forced a similar style of costume onto Eames before leaving the hotel.

 

Ariadne and Yusuf were in the process of guessing Eames’s costume when Arthur felt a light weight on his shoulder. He tensed slightly and turned, but relaxed when he saw Dom smiling at him from beneath a large-brimmed top hat. “I’m surprised you’re allowing Eames to stand so close to you in public, dressed like that,” the Extractor laughed quietly as he came to stand beside Arthur.

 

“Trust me, it’s not by choice,” Arthur sighed in defeat as he turned back to watch Ariadne and Yusuf practically support each other as they laughed much louder than was polite at such a party, having just figured out Eames’s costume.

 

Eames was standing beside Arthur looking entirely too smug with himself. But before Arthur could comment, he was interrupted by the appearance of Saito. “I am glad you could all make it this evening,” Saito greeted them all, resting a hand on Dom’s shoulder for a moment as the wealthy businessman joined their small, exclusive circle. Arthur noticed Saito’s eyes drift to Eames. “Mr. Eames, were you mugged on your way over from the hotel?”

 

This just had Ariadne and Yusuf laughing harder, gasping for air now. And it seemed to be contagious because Dom began laughing as well, albeit quieter, when he noticed Saito’s somewhat bewildered look. Eames was grinning and Arthur felt his own lips quirking upwards until he noticed Eames’s eyes on him, which was when he promptly crushed the potential smile. “It’s a costume. I’m a cereal killer,” Eames explained again proudly.

 

Saito gave a somewhat disbelieving grunt, though there was still a hint of a smile on his lips. “If you insist, Mr. Eames.” After that comment it took another few seconds for everyone to calm down, Arthur again fighting a rather determined smile from appearing on his lips.

 

“Thanks for inviting us,” Dom spoke to Saito once everyone had calmed again.

 

“Even if some of us didn’t meet the dress code,” Arthur added under his breath, though he grunted when Eames nudged him in the side with an elbow for the comment.

 

“No trouble at all,” Saito waved the comment aside with a small smile. “Actually, there are some people I would like to introduce you to, Mr. Cobb, if you would follow me.”

 

With a nod and quick smile sent to the rest of the dream work team, Dom trailed along beside Saito as they broke away from the small group to mingle with the other nameless guests. The four remaining dream workers chatted for a few minutes, catching up on news since they had last worked together. Then Ariadne insisted she wanted to dance and demanded Yusuf take her out for a spin across the floor. The Chemist seemed to realize that ‘no’ was not the correct answer, so he offered his hand with a flourish and led Ariadne away into the circling throng of dancers.

 

This left Arthur exactly where he didn’t want to be. Alone with Eames at a formal Halloween costume ball, no one else around to provide an excuse for Arthur to put some much needed distance between himself and Eames’s tragedy of a costume. “You know, you really ought to cheer up, love. It’s Halloween after all,” Eames murmured softly so only the Point Man could hear, though the Forger didn’t sound particularly troubled by Arthur’s attitude. In fact, Eames seemed perfectly content to lean against the wall close enough for his shoulder to brush Arthur’s.

 

“Your costume personally offends me,” Arthur offered as a half-assed explanation, not particularly caring what Eames thought about his attitude but wanting to fill the silence between them nonetheless.

 

“I wouldn’t mind if you removed it for me,” Eames whispered, flirty as always, so close to Arthur’s ear that he felt the man’s warm breath tease his skin. Arthur felt an annoying flush of heat pass through his body – a sensation that he had begun to feel each time Eames made flippant comments like that, but one he always insisted to himself was merely due to anger. But before Arthur could make a decision on the cause of his flushed cheeks, or even make some witty retort, Eames seemed to change tactics. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

 

“Who?” Arthur questioned in confusion at the sudden change in topic, following Eames’s unwavering gaze focused on the stage. There he saw the female singer holding the microphone close to her painted red lips. She had wavy brown hair with tendrils of hair that looked like spun gold threading into the soft ringlets that fell around her face and neck. She was dolled up in a shimmering red gown that hugged her curves, the halter top leaving a fair expanse of her milky skin exposed while the bottom fabric twisted downward to the floor. As one of the only people in the hall without a mask on, Arthur could see the singer’s blue eyes holding her audience captive and a small birth mark on her cheekbone. “Do you know her?” Arthur felt compelled to ask when Eames said nothing more.

 

“No,” Eames admitted. “But I’d like to.”

 

“Why?” Arthur shot back quickly, immediately wincing at the sharp annoyance in his own voice.

 

Eames shrugged, his eyes never straying from the singer. Arthur felt his whole body tense. “She seems like she’d be a really interesting person to know.” Arthur didn’t know what to say to that, and felt rather unsure of himself after his quick outburst when Eames’s gaze finally landed on him heavily. “Don’t be jealous, love. She’s already taken.”

 

“What do you mean...?” Arthur trailed off when Eames motioned for him to look back at the stage.

 

The singer had just let the last note of her song fade away into the large dance hall, and seemed occupied motioning at someone in the audience. The singer seemed to huff for a moment and point at someone before giving a ‘come hither’ curl of her finger. A moment later Arthur watched another woman, possibly slightly older but a few inches shorter, step up onto the stage. She was dressed in a dark royal blue strapless dress with a pale ribbon around her waist and jewels along the ruffled hem flaring out mid-calf with the aid of some crinoline. Her dark brown hair was up in a bun and held there by jewelled clips and again she did not wear a mask.

 

The new woman looked somewhat reluctant to be on stage in front of a bunch of strangers but noticeably calmed the moment the female singer took her hand and held it as she stepped back up to the microphone. The new woman was introduced as the singer’s muse, a few of the crowd making cooing sounds at the couple. Then, the two women still holding hands, the performer began singing again for the crowd. And if Arthur had thought before that the woman’s voice was powerful, he was blown away hearing her now; it sounded like she was singing from her soul with her partner beside her.

 

Arthur was startled from his thoughts by Eames’s voice close to his ear again. “Don’t worry, darling. She’s not the one I have my eye on.”

 

“I wasn’t jealous!” Arthur snapped, irritated both at Eames’s continued flirting and from suddenly being distracted from the singer.

 

He felt the weight of Eames’s hand land on his shoulder and tried not to think too hard about how warm the other man’s hand felt on him. “Whatever you say, Arthur,” Eames said teasingly. “Now will you be a doll and stay here for a moment? I need to hit the loo quickly.”

 

Before Arthur could comment and inform Eames that he had no intention of staying in one place to make it easier for the Forger to find him, Eames had given him a quick pat and disappeared into the crowd towards one of the many maze-like hallways in this large manor. Feeling like being as difficult as possible, Arthur abandoned his current wall and braved the large mass of party guests. He eventually saw Ariadne and Yusuf dancing happily to the singer’s song, but they looked like they were enjoying themselves so Arthur decided not to interrupt.

 

He didn’t know anyone else at this party, nor had any interest in introducing himself to strangers. Arthur was beginning to wonder why he had even agreed to come to this party when he felt a warm hand slide down his arm to grasp his hand lightly. Arthur pulled his hand away quickly and spun on his heel, ready to give this brass stranger a piece of his mind, when he felt his voice cut off in the back of his throat.

 

Eames was standing in front of him, still smiling but looking more hesitant, shyer. His unfortunately choice in wardrobe was still in place, but the Forger’s hair looked ruffled, like Eames had been threading his fingers through it without quite realizing the mess he was making. And Eames had glasses on. Any glasses on Eames would have been somewhat of a shock, but these weren’t even _normal_ glasses. They were large, thick-framed glasses that somehow made Eames’s features look softer, younger, and his hair pleasingly dishevelled rather than a tangled rat’s nest. And it _really_ shouldn’t have been sexy, but...

 

“Arthur?” Eames’s voice startled Arthur out of his thoughts in a flash, and Arthur felt another annoying wave of heat pass through him. “Are you feeling alright? You’re looking a little flushed.”

 

Eames sounded genuinely worried, but Arthur didn’t even bother acknowledging the question. Instead he decided to ask a question about the only thing he could manage to focus on. “Why are you wearing glasses?”

 

“I dropped one of my contacts in the loo by accident,” Eames explained, touching the edge of his glasses in an endearingly shy manner.

 

“You don’t wear contacts,” Arthur argued, his stomach feeling like he had just stepped off the edge of something very high off the ground. Surely Arthur – all-knowing Arthur – would have known if one of his teammates wore contacts.

 

“Afraid to say I do, darling,” Eames continued to fidget with the glasses resting on his nose, looking more self-conscious than Arthur had ever seen him before.

 

“You never wear them, though,” Arthur retaliated, trying to stay focused on the argument rather than the way Eames looked with the glasses framing his sharp blue eyes.

 

“Well not in dreams, no,” Eames agreed with a light shrug, “Since everyone has perfect vision in dreams. But maybe you have just been wasting your opportunities to stare dreamily into my eyes in reality.” Arthur felt the air catch in the back of his throat when he tried to swallow, and Eames, unfortunately having noticed this momentary blip in Arthur’s calm exterior, grew more confident. “I’m far sighted and can’t see any close details. Normally I would have just gone without but I couldn’t bear the thought of missing the chance to stare at your beautiful face for the first time since our last job together.”

 

They stood there staring at one another for a minute or more, both waiting for the other to make the first move even though neither of them knew what to expect. And then a dancing couple bumped into Arthur by accident, giggling their apologies through a haze of champagne before rejoining the line of dance around the room. The moment shattered, and Arthur quickly grabbed Eames’s arm and dragged him out of the main hall entirely before anyone else could see them.

 

Eames gave no form of protest as Arthur shepherded him through the halls. The whole manor seemed to be filled with guests and as time wore on, Arthur began to lose his nerve. He became too aware of Eames’s muscles flexing under his grip, and the constant companion that was the sound of the other man’s breath mingling with his own quick breathing. Arthur slowed his pace, wondering what the hell had come over him. But before he could turn and head back to the party – forget this had ever happened – Eames seemed to take over and continued to drag Arthur down their current hallway until they found a small, empty study.

 

Eames released his grip on Arthur’s arm in the doorframe, disappearing long enough to find and turn on the room’s lights before returning to Arthur’s side. In a flash Arthur felt himself being pinned back against the room’s heavy wooden door, Eames’s body pressing against him. The sound of the door’s lock clicked shut. “Now, are you going to tell me what caused you to get in such a flurry and drag me away from the party, pet?” Eames questioned softly – teasing and yet calming – as he brushed a few strands of Arthur’s hair away from beneath the fedora.

 

Arthur turned his face away, mentally chiding himself on his rash stupidity. “Forget it.”

 

Eames pulled away slightly with a sigh, leaving a few inches of space between their bodies. Arthur missed the contact even though he knew he shouldn’t, though he had to admit the sensation of cardboard from Eames’s torn cereal boxes was not exactly pleasant. “How many times have you led me this far only to cast me aside, Arthur?” The use of his name caught Arthur’s attention enough to give him the courage to meet the Forger’s eyes. They looked desperate and sad. “How many more times must I pretend I don’t mind letting you go?”

 

“Don’t do this,” Arthur growled, even though he only had himself to blame.

 

Arthur wanted to look away but couldn’t, and Eames held his gaze for an uncomfortably long time. Arthur could still hear the distant sounds of the band and singer entertaining the main party, but in this small room it was just the two dream workers, alone to do whatever they dared. Arthur was half expecting Eames to kiss him with the way Eames seemed to be wavering back and forth on the balls of his feet, and Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do with himself if that happened.

 

But then Arthur felt himself being forcefully hustled out of the doorframe and heard the door’s lock click open again. Eames twisted the knob and pulled the door open a few inches before pausing, glancing back at Arthur over his shoulder. He looked angry, and hurt, and hopeless. “I’ll stop as long as you promise to stop too, because I can’t survive much more of this.”

 

Eames graced Arthur with the saddest smile the Point Man had ever been forced to endure. And then the Forger was gone and Arthur was left standing staring at the closed door. Arthur blinked once, twice, three times in surprise, not entirely sure what was going on. Ever since they first met Eames had been chasing Arthur, and Arthur had always been the one to turn away first. It wasn’t that Eames was particularly unappealing – quite the opposite actually. But that wasn’t the point.

 

The point was that it was foolish to consider getting involved in a relationship with a criminal, even if you were a criminal too. It was stupid to get attached to someone who could easily end up on the wrong end of a gun’s barrel; it just wasn’t a safe position for Arthur to allow himself to get into. Arthur had just assumed that it would always be him and Eames doing dream work, gravitating towards each other and dancing away at the last minute each time they got too close. Eames had never seemed particularly deterred by Arthur’s avoidance, and Arthur had to admit it was nice to know that Eames would always be there, always trying.

 

But now Arthur was alone in the room, listening to Eames’s retreating footsteps – perhaps for the last time. It left him feeling cold, alone, and slightly scared.

 

In a flash Arthur had the door open, and with only a startled yelp from the Forger got the other man back into the study. This time it was Arthur who slid the door’s lock closed with a rather determined _click_. “What is it you want from me, Mr. Eames?” Arthur asked in a rush, feeling out of breath even though Eames had not escaped far down the hallway and had not put up much fight in being returned to the study.

 

Eames’s eyebrows furrowed as he glared back at Arthur. “You know what I want, Arthur. Don’t be cruel and make me say it.”

 

Feeling desperate, worried Eames would escape again, Arthur dug his nails into Eames’s shoulders through the itchy wool sweater and pressed closer to the other dream worker. “I want to hear you say it.”

 

“Is this some sort of trick?” Eames huffed, though he didn’t attempt to shrug off Arthur’s touch. He seemed half defeated already.

 

“No,” Arthur shook his head and gave a tiny smile, considering Eames’s words and the current holiday. “I intend for this to be a treat.”

 

Eames’s eyes shot up to meet Arthur’s, sharpening with cautious curiosity at Arthur’s declaration. Arthur felt Eames’s hands rest hesitantly on his hips, and Arthur gave Eames another small smile of encouragement. “I want all of you, love,” Eames whispered, his own lips fighting to mimic Arthur’s own lips. “For more than tonight.”

 

“You realize this is stupid, right?” Arthur clarified, moving his own hands to play with the hem of Eames’s ugly sweater now that he was sure the other man wasn’t going to run out into the hallway again. “There’s no knowing how long this can last with our profession.”

 

“I’d rather share every day with you that we have left, darling,” Eames hummed slightly, the sound calming as Eames’s warm fingers began tugging the fabric of Arthur’s shirt from beneath his waistband. “Rather than remain distant and waste our time together in the pointless hope that it’ll make loss feel less painful.”

 

That made sense to Arthur and he wondered briefly why he had never looked at it that way before. But more important, Eames’s words seemed to ignite a burning sun within Arthur’s chest, making him feel warm and safe and confident. And determined. Without another word Arthur leaned forward and caught Eames’s lips softly, unsure until he felt Eames immediately open his mouth and brush his tongue over Arthur’s bottom lip.

 

Feeling a desire Arthur had been feverishly ignoring for the last few years suddenly catch fire deep inside, Arthur gave a grateful moan and opened his own mouth to allow the Forger’s tongue entry. Eames explored Arthur’s mouth almost excessively, brushing his tongue along the roof of Arthur’s mouth and behind his teeth like there were untold secrets there before their tongues finally met and knotted. A distinct rumble vibrated through Eames, which caused Arthur to shiver as they both began tugging at one another’s costumes.

 

Eames was naked first since he had fewer layers, but he wouldn’t allow Arthur to do anything until he had finally peeled away the remaining fabric of Arthur’s undershirt. Then Eames placed Arthur’s fedora back on the Point Man’s head, and Arthur returned Eames’s thick-framed glasses to Eames’s smiling face. They both chuckled lightly at this surprising revelation about one another’s tastes, and then Arthur led Eames backwards until he sat down heavily on a dark leather couch.

 

Arthur was pulled down a second later when Eames caught his hand, leading Arthur to straddle Eames’s warm thighs. Their lips reconnected, their movements still slightly shy and slow in disbelief, though their hands roamed greedily. Eames’s hands brushed over Arthur’s calves and thighs digging into the leather and hooked around Eames’s burning skin, before squeezing Arthur’s ass playfully. Arthur moaned into their kiss and skimmed his fingers up the broad expanse of Eames’s chest until he reached the Forger’s face. Stubble tickled his palms as Arthur moved his hands up to frame soft cheeks and keep Eames’s face in place so that their kiss could not be disturbed. Arthur also took advantage of the current position to occasionally nudge a finger against the frames of Eames’s glasses to remind himself that they were there.

 

It didn’t take long before both dream workers were panting and hard, rutting against one another jerkily with their swollen lengths trapped together between their bodies. Not wanting this to end too quickly, Arthur finally broke the kiss. He rested his forehead against Eames, the two men sharing the same air as they fought for breath, and whispered, “I want you to make me yours; take me.”

 

Eames groaned loudly at that, neither of them caring if a random party-goer was wandering by in the hallway. Arthur was pulled back into another quick, heady kiss that left him feeling flushed and dizzy, and then he felt Eames pull away and shift Arthur onto the couch. For a moment Arthur was going to protest, fear gripping him as he watched Eames return to their scattered pile of clothing to pick up his slacks. But then he saw Eames pull something out of a pocket and turn back towards the couch. The bobbing of Eames’s thick cock as he approached Arthur was a telling sign that this encounter was not yet over.

 

Although he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, Arthur allowed himself to be shuffled around by Eames’s large hands until he found himself bent over the couch’s cushiony armrest. Arthur was thankful that his fedora fit tightly enough to stay on his head despite being hung over the armrest. Arthur’s legs were spread out behind him, his cock pressed against the cool leather and his ass presented obscenely in the air. Arthur could never have imagined himself in such a position before, let alone _liking_ it, but he could feel Eames’s appreciative gaze on his ass and it made his skin tingle with anticipation.

 

Arthur’s fingers dug into the thick strands of the carpet as he heard the cap of a bottle open and felt one finger coated in lube circle his tight hole and press in. Eames hissed behind him and Arthur felt that large finger thrust in and out carefully as those sinful lips kissed the skin of his ass. “You’re so tight, Arthur. So hot. I’m not even inside you yet and I know you’re going to feel bloody perfect, squeezing around my length...” Eames let out another groan as Arthur clenched down when a second finger was inserted. “Yeah, love. Just like that.”

 

“Do you ever shut up?” Arthur grumbled, glad that Eames couldn’t see the way Arthur’s cheeks were flushed and his mouth was hanging open just at the Brit’s words.

 

“Not when it makes you sound that fucked out, darling,” Eames chuckled and nipped the skin he had kissed a moment ago. Arthur thrust forward weakly against the leather before pressing back to take Eames’s moving fingers deeper. “God, look at you,” Eames spoke with a sort of wonder in his voice, “Just arching for it. So desperate for it – _me_ ,” Eames corrected.

 

Arthur could hear the smile in Eames’s voice, but it didn’t annoy Arthur as much as it should. Instead it made him smile stupidly at the carpet, at least until Eames began to carefully insert a third finger. Arthur winced and gave a little gasp of pain, trying to drag more air into his lungs after it had escaped him in a rush. “Fuck, Eames,” was all Arthur managed to get out, and he was grateful that Eames seemed to notice the distress in Arthur’s voice.

 

Eames hushed him softly, removing the third finger but leaving the other two fingers inside Arthur’s body to continue coating him with lube as Arthur’s body clenched and relaxed. Arthur’s body calmed again once it realized the pain had been unintentional, his limbs melting against the leather. Eames continued to whisper sweet nothings into the air, proving himself to be far sweeter than Arthur had ever given him credit for.

 

After another minute or so of Eames thrusting two fingers in and out of Arthur’s stretched hole, Arthur felt his body heating up again, desperate for this to continue. Eames seemed to realize this and returned his third finger back to the rim of Arthur’s ass. But just as Eames cautiously pressed that third finger in beside his other two, Arthur felt the Forger’s other hand, burning with heat, wrap around Arthur’s leaking cock and pump him slowly, practically milking him. In a rush Arthur pulled himself up and pressed back until he was kneeling on the leather, his hands gripping the armrest, his head dizzy from the sudden move, Eames’s fingers buried in his ass and stretching him, and Eames’s hand readjusting to reach around Arthur’s hip and continue to stroke him.

 

“ _Eames_...” Arthur keened, feeling his body tense as shocks of pleasure passed through him. He felt so desperate and needy but didn’t care as he rode down on Eames’s fingers and up into his hand. He didn’t care because Eames was right there behind him, pressing his chest against Arthur’s sweaty back, dropping quick nips and kisses along Arthur’s neck and shoulder where he could reach. Arthur clenched his eyes closed, gasping on each breath, amazed that he was already this wound up. Then his eyes flashed open. “Eames,” he whined, “I’m gonna... _Fuck_ , stop, stop...” he begged, even though he never wanted this to end, “I want you to...” his voice trailed away into another desperate moan.

 

Eames squeezed around Arthur’s base a second before Arthur’s body bucked forward, staving off his orgasm in the nick of time. Arthur’s whole body shuddered with its unfound release, and Arthur couldn’t hold back the tiny sob of want that broke in the back of his throat as he slumped backwards against Eames. The Forger’s fingers were still inside him, stretching him but unmoving, and Eames’s other hand continued to hold Arthur’s climax at bay. “I can fuck you another time, Arthur,” Eames offered softly, sounding turned on but unrushed. “You won’t last tonight anyway.”

 

Arthur wanted to just nod and start riding Eames’s well-placed fingers again, fuck Eames’s palm until he painted it white. It would be so easy, so quick, and he would find his release. But he wanted Eames’s cock inside him so Arthur forced himself to shake his head and carefully extract himself from their current position. It was almost painful to stand with his cock so swollen and heavy between his legs, but Arthur forced himself to move long enough to press Eames back onto the couch in a sitting position and grab the abandoned lube bottle.

 

Eames held up a condom wrapper and Arthur shook his head again. Eames pulled Arthur into a frenzied kiss, showing how truly riled up he was. Arthur covered his palm in more lube once they had finally broken apart for air again, clenching his fist closed for a moment to heat the liquid up and give his own body another moment to calm down enough to survive more than the first thrust. Eames gave a delightful groan when Arthur wrapped his hand around his length, twisting and stroking up and down for a few seconds.

 

The stretch, when Arthur finally began to sit himself down on Eames’s cock, wasn’t bad. Eames’s cock was a little thicker than the width of three fingers but Arthur’s body was loose and willing to take in the heated flesh. It helped that Eames held Arthur’s hips steady, a constant comforting presence as Arthur finally sat down fully in Eames’s lap and paused a moment to adjust. He was straddling Eames’s thighs, knees hooked against the other man’s hips, and Eames’s cock was buried so far into him that Arthur could feel Eames’s balls pressed against his ass.

 

They kissed again, slower and sweeter than what their current position called for, and then Arthur lifted his body up and sat back down fast. Both men moaned loudly and Eames’s grip on Arthur’s hips turned near-painful, which just spurred Arthur on. It felt good to be stretched, to be full, and Arthur realized that he was truly happy that it was Eames below him. Not some stranger Arthur didn’t care about, who didn’t care about Arthur in return. This was a man who had saved and protected Arthur on more than one occasion, and someone Arthur had saved and protected in return. This was about more than the fact that Eames was gorgeous and gave Arthur more attention than anyone else. This was about the fact that Arthur had shared more with Eames than almost anyone else and couldn’t imagine a world without Eames in it, even if he was being an annoying bastard.

 

It was also about the fact that Eames was staring up at him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, lips parted, like Arthur was the only person in the world that mattered.

 

Eames’s hands were aiding Arthur’s movements now, helping him rise until just Eames’s tip was stretching Arthur’s hole, and then pressing him back down hard and fast to get speared on Eames’s twitching cock again and again. Eames was whispering whatever seemed to come to mind, which turned out to be a lot of expletives mixed with the sweetest things anyone had ever said to Arthur. Arthur, in turn, was moaning constantly now, the sound only cutting off each time Eames fucked into him all the way.

 

Arthur didn’t last long. The first time Eames thrust up into Arthur at the right angle to hit the Point Man’s prostate, Arthur was lost. With a cry Arthur pressed down as hard as he could, grinding himself on Eames’s cock and causing the leaking head to rub against the bundle of nerves. His whole body jolted in time with his heartbeat. Arthur only managed one weak cry of Eames’s name before his body began to buck forward quickly, painting Eames’s chest and stomach with his burning come.

 

It seemed to last forever, and when Arthur was finally spent he collapsed forward against Eames, his own come smearing against his skin, and rested his head on Eames’s shoulder. It took him a long minute to catch his breath, his body feeling like it was melting into a puddle. But then Arthur felt Eames’s still thick and hard length twitch inside Arthur, no doubt responding to Arthur’s muscles clenching and squeezing around him. Arthur forced himself to sit up enough to look at Eames’s face, and then he leaned forward and whispered against Eames’s lips, “ _Keep going_.”

 

“You’ll be too sensitive,” Eames argued softly, like they were sharing secrets.

 

“I don’t care,” Arthur returned with a small smile, pressing a quick closed-mouth kiss to Eames’s lips. “I want you to fill me with your come.”

 

That got a reaction out of Eames, the man’s hips thrusting up into Arthur’s body again near violently. Arthur whined softly as the head of Eames’s cock pressed against his prostate again but forced himself to lift off Eames slightly. He knelt and wrapped his arms around Eames’s neck for balance, leaving a little space so that Eames would not have to lift Arthur up. And with one final kiss, Eames took a tight grip on Arthur’s hips again and began to thrust up into Arthur, stuffing his sensitive hole again and again.

 

Arthur panted and tried to hold himself steady, whispering encouragements in Eames’s ear as the man groaned and continued to move. It didn’t take much longer before Eames pulled Arthur down with enough force to sit fully in Eames’s lap again, the Forger’s length swelling and pulsing hot bursts of come inside Arthur as Eames yelled his name into the otherwise quiet room. Feeling his body fill with a rush of hot come had Arthur pressing down even harder, taking Eames as deep as he could.

 

Eames’s final spurt of come was paired with a long, violent shudder that shook Arthur as well. Then they both lay still for a long time trying to catch their breath as their heart rates calmed slowly. They stayed like that long enough for Eames’s cock to soften and slip from Arthur’s body, his come trickling out of Arthur’s hole and down his leg onto the leather shortly after. It made Arthur feel slightly empty, but he was reassured when Eames pulled him into a slow, languid kiss that made Arthur realize that this wasn’t going to be their only encounter.

 

For a long time Arthur didn’t want to move. He was perfectly content sitting on Eames’s thighs, the other man’s arms wrapped warmly around his waist. Arthur didn’t care that he was a sticky mess, or that they had ruined Saito’s couch – they’d buy him a new one - or that the rest of their teammates were probably wondering where the hell they were. But eventually Arthur’s legs grew stiff in their current position and he pulled away to stand on shaky legs. “I guess we should get cleaned up and head back to the party before anyone misses us,” Arthur muttered, suddenly feeling unsure and slightly shy at standing naked in front of his teammate, Eames’s come still spiralling down his inner thigh.

 

Eames stared up at him for a long moment and then stood in a flash. He gripped Arthur’s hips and pulled him close so that their softened lengths were pressed together. “Was this a one time thing for you, darling?” Eames questioned softly, his fear leaking into his words.

 

Arthur placed one hand on each of Eames’s broad shoulders, noticing only then the vivid red half-moon cuts in the skin from where Arthur had gripped too hard. He held Eames’s gaze for a long moment, hoping Eames could see what Arthur was feeling in his eyes even if Arthur didn’t know how to express it in words. And then he whispered as strongly as possible, “No.”

 

Eames continued to study him for a long moment, making Arthur’s stomach twist with nerves. And then the Forger began to smile in a way that made Arthur feel warm and excited. “Well if that’s the case...” Eames whispered as he teased the fingers of one hand down the crack of Arthur’s ass to touch his still-wet and sticky hole, causing Arthur to arch slightly and shiver. “I think we should forget the party and head back to our hotel. I have a few more...” Eames paused and licked along the shell of Arthur’s ear, “ _treats_ in store for you.”

 

Again Arthur shivered and felt his body stirring with renewed heat and interest. “Like what?” he asked, perhaps more eager than he should be but uncaring when it made Eames smirk, pleased.

 

“Well for one, I have some left over caramel mixture from when I was teaching Ariadne how to make caramel apples earlier today,” Eames suggested with a raised eyebrow, smiling wider when he no doubt noticed Arthur’s cheeks flush at the thought.

 

“What are we waiting for?” Arthur eventually managed to choke out, smirking in return before they shared one final kiss and made a mad dash for their scattered clothing. Arthur didn’t even mind when Eames put his awful sweater and socks back on, because Arthur just reminded himself that he was allowed to tear the fabric right off Eames again the moment they were back at the hotel.

 

It was going to be a memorable Halloween.

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**


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